


Still So Far Away, Our Republic on the Beach

by gemmaspumpkins



Category: Red Rising Series - Pierce Brown
Genre: Backstory, Gen, South Pacifica, sons of ares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-05 22:07:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17927255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemmaspumpkins/pseuds/gemmaspumpkins
Summary: This is the story of Holiday before she shows up in Morning Star. How did she get to that point? What led her to be right there, with Trigg? As a slightly older Son, it offers her view into the Sons' early days.





	1. Chapter 1

It was a mostly normal Gray childhood, until she saw the gas masks. 

Before that, they were loving parents - distant maybe, but it wasn’t the nature of Grays to be emotional. They took care of Holiday and Trigg as well as any family on their block, better than most, if Holiday was being honest. They took their jobs seriously, but made time for their children on their days off, often taking them into the city on what the children saw as grand adventures. The family was serious, but the children joked as all siblings do - imitating their parents’ Terran drawls that would become their own as they grew up. They were an unassuming Gray family that blended in to their block, into South Pacifica, and into Earth. 

Holiday did well in school, and wondered if it made her stand out too much. Trigg was her goofy younger brother, her counterpart: where she was quiet and questioning, he was loud and unashamed. They still got along well, as most pairs of Gray children do. They were each others’ entertainment during her parents’ long hours at work, and long hours in their basement while the children watched the HC and did homework and invented games and races and slept. 

Holiday was probably around 10 years old when she first found her parents in the gas masks. She smelled the basement smell wafting into the living area and it nearly made her gag this time. Trigg didn’t seem to notice, as he just took the opportunity of her distraction as an excuse to grab the HC remote away from her. She snuck down the stairs, and the fuel smell nearly overtook her. She went down there sometimes when she was home alone, but never when her parents were there. There would be lingering odors, and it was always colder, but never anything like this. She hoped they hadn’t seen her, and ran back upstairs before she vomited. The children had never been allowed down there, and she wondered if the sinking feeling in her stomach as she returned to the HC was from the smell, or her own guilt. 

The next time she snuck in while they were at work, she found a 10-year-old size gas mask on a hook by the door. She backed out, and never opened the door again. 

\----------

She knew, intrinsically, for as long as she could remember, that her parents were doing something bad, that was why she and Trigg were never allowed downstairs. Grays weren’t allowed the kinds of equipment they kept there. Hell, she wasn’t sure they were even allowed to have basements at all. When she began visiting her friend Shan ti Ankara’s house at 13, she found out Shan certainly didn’t. Shan’s parents were loud and stayed in the living quarters and had nothing to hide. 

Holiday’s fears became more real. Her parents had always had a healthy fear of the police, but now Holiday could see why. They were doing something very, very wrong. 

She became even more reserved at home, drawing into herself and spending as often as she could away from home. She would go to Shan’s or work out in the parks, following recent regiment recruits from a distance. 

When she was at Shan’s house, she didn’t have to worry about her new fears of the police barging in at any moment, or the constant question of how she could tell Trigg, whose obliviousness was borderline scary - he had none of the fear or reservation a Gray whose parents were criminals should have. 

Although being at Shan’s wasn’t perfect - if anything it made her more scared to go home. Shan’s parents worked as guards in some of the government buildings, and their stories of catching criminals, and their satisfaction in sending thieves to jail, or beating drug dealers on the spot, were brutal. Though Holiday’s parents had similar jobs, guarding farms and factories, they rarely spoke about it where she and Trigg could hear. 

Holiday and Shan would often listen to Shan’s parents through the paper-thin walls before going back to discussing their own career ambitions and homework. At 15, they were nearly of age to begin applying to their chosen regiments. Shan’s father had been in the 13th Legion - the Ash Lord’s own - before he retired into guard duty and met his wife, and would tell the girls stories late into the night of warfare and battleground excitement. Shan’s older brother, Teller, was in the 13th now, and they often fantasized about going on missions with him to the far reaches of space. 

It was at the ti Ankara’s that Holiday first connected the dots. Her family’s trips to the city involving back alley “shortcuts” combined with what she had seen in the basement that day years ago suddenly made sense. Her parents were no better than the drug dealers Shan’s father beat on a daily basis, maybe even worse if they were the ones actually making the crank. And if they were making it, there, in her own home - Holiday felt sick to her stomach again and resolved to focus on getting out. 

She already knew knew she wanted to wind up far, far away from Earth, maybe as a soldier running missions around Mars, or a bodyguard protecting some dignitary from the Sons of Ares, a relatively new threat to Society. With parents who were making crank in an illegal basement, she would have to get as far away as possible, and as high up as possible before they were caught, in her nightmares Trigg was imprisoned with them.

When it came time to discuss regiment applications, Shan’s parents took to Holiday like a pitviper to a pit. It was partially her friendship with Shan, but it was also her skill and ability - she outshone Shan in school and would make a fine recruit to any regiment. They offered to recommend Holiday for the Thirteenth, something her own parents certainly didn’t have the stature to do. She accepted happily and began planning her life far, far away, with Teller and Shan and the best Grays in the universe. 

She wouldn’t only be far away from her drug running parents, she would be one of the Dracones, an elite level Gray - untouchable even if her parents were sent to Deepgrave. 

Finally, when it was nearly the deadline for applications, she told her parents her plan. They seemed troubled, but didn’t try to stop her. 

“Babydoll, if that’s what you really want, we want that for you,” her father said. 

She didn’t know how she expected them to react. She had built up the horror of them slowly, over years. She had held them at arms’ length and hadn’t tried to have a serious conversation since the gas masks -- of course, it wasn’t like they had tried either. They had become an enemy in her head, but they were still her parents, and she still needed them to sign off on the applications. She decided they would see the advantage as well: if their daughter was in the 13th, they could rise in position. Maybe she could send money back to them so they wouldn’t have to make crank in their damned basement anymore. 

”You know,” her mother said cautiously. “Trigg was considering the 13th.” 

No, she thought, her brother was not. He was watching the HC and trying to flirt with their neighbors, Margo and Marcus. Holiday shrugged. 

“It’s not that I think you need protection or help -“ 

“Want me to protect him?” Holiday viewed her brother as nowhere near 13th material. She’d always wished she had an older brother to look up to, someone she could follow, instead of Trigg, who was a happy, go-lucky, Earthen boy who still had stars in his eyes. He didn’t see the world for what it was, she thought, and maybe he would make a good guard someday, but the Thirteenth? Surely not. 

Their mother laughed. “Something like that. You would just have to wait until he is old enough. But that gives you more time to train and takes less from the ti Ankaras’ kindness. Then you won’t be in the same year as Shan.” 

She was surprised her parents had thought that far ahead, or cared at all about the ti Ankaras. Her parents were right - as competitive as the ti Ankaras were, they wouldn’t balk at the idea of Holiday being in a different class so Shan could be at the top of their year in applications. Holiday stepping down would be a perfect trade off for the additional risk of recommending Trigg. 

Still, it meant at least one more year on this forsaken rock living in fear that anything could happen. But it also meant getting ever-smiling, oblivious Trigg out of the house, keeping him from even having the option of staying, so he was less likely to be there when it would all inevitably go to shit. She could do that. For Trigg, and for never seeing Earth again, she could make that compromise. Plus, Shan would probably be relieved that she wasn’t going to have to compete with Holiday for a position. 

Her parents went to talk to Trigg. Holiday huffed and walked to the ti Ankaras’. 

She told Shan what her parents had asked, and that she had agreed reluctantly. But while Holiday thought Shan would be relieved that she wouldn’t have to compete for admission, instead, Shan burst into tears. 

She threw herself into Holiday’s arms. The girls had scarcely hugged before, the closest physical contact had been, physical combat sparring in school. Holiday tried to pat her on the back, and Shan wrapped her arms tighter around Holiday, sobbing. 

“I don’t want to go without you,” she said, composing herself, but now nearly sitting in Holiday’s lap. 

“What do you mean? You’ll get to go first and you can, uh, tell me all about it. It’s the Thirteenth! The Dracones! It will be amazing.” 

Shan looked confused. “But you won’t be there.”

”I’ll be a year behind, it won’t be that bad.”

”I could fail my application test,” Shan breathed, a spark of hope in her eyes. 

“No, no, no! Please don’t do that. Your parents - “ 

“They’d still recommend you. I could tell them. Or - or I could wait a year too. I’m not nearly as good as you. I need to train for a year!” 

“Shan - what are you saying? It’s the Dracones! Your parents have already set you up, it’s —“ 

“I know,” Shan breathed, her breath right in Holiday’s ear. Holiday hadn’t realized how close she was, Shan’s head now resting on her shoulder. 

“I just thought, in the end,” she ran a hand through Holiday’s hair. “I thought we’d be together.” 

Holiday had never thought about it. All those nights spent laying awake listening to the ti Ankaras discuss the Sons or weaponry, had Shan been looking at her like she did now? 

She couldn’t deny Shan was a good friend. But Holiday was joining the 13th to escape Earth, to escape her parents’ illegal activities - not to be with Shan. She felt something as she held Shan in those moments, rubbing her back, stroking her hair as she hiccuped the last of the sobs. What she felt was not guilt for not returning Shan’s feelings, but it wasn’t love either. 

Holiday used her free hand on her datapad to tell her parents she was spending the night, and held Shan tightly, silently, until Shan’s hiccups became the even breathing of sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

After Shan left, Holiday did feel a little empty. The words the other Colors said stung more, her training stalled. She began working with Trigg instead - if he couldn’t score high enough on the admissions test, there would have been no point in waiting. 

She didn’t worry about that for long though. Trigg was a natural. She must have missed this somehow, while she had been hiding at Shan’s. Her brother had become strong, fast, clever. After a few months of training, they were nearly an even match, and she began to feel glad she had waited, that she was helping her brother get out and into something better. If she had left, he likely would have stayed a guard like their parents, or taken on their other hobbies. His potential was evident, and he became a close friend again. She realized she had pushed him away these years too, and while being friends at 16 and 15 was different from being friends at 10 and nine, it was still an easy rhythm to fall in to. 

As the year went on, they created a happy routine, running in the mornings, weights and tactical lessons, then work shifts guarding grain silos or other food stores. Earth took pride in its position as sustainable in its food stores, despite nearly every other planet shaming it for not doing much more. 

Still, being from Earth was an advantage for a Gray looking to get out. Many stayed, guarding siloes or farms their whole lives, with no thought to the stars or the worlds beyond. But those who wanted to leave, those who looked up and saw more than the top of Society, but instead saw opportunity - they were seen as rougher, wilder than Grays bred on other planets. Earth liked the hardened, edgy image their emigrants put out, though Holiday had always thought the frenzy behind the eyes of Earth Grays wasn’t bloodlust, it was just the longing to get off the planet. 

She knew she had it, and she learned Trigg did too. Since he had never feared for their parents, his was a yearning for adventure - excitement, enthusiasm for the journeys in space. He wanted to see the worlds, and there was no way for a Gray to travel outside of work. His excitement was evident and infectious - she wanted him to have it, to be able to see everything in the universe that there was to see. But the fighting, the military, that aspect of the Thirteenth didn’t seem to register with him. She began to see it as a terrible trade off: Want to see another planet? Just risk your life! 

Golds and Silvers could travel for fun. Some of the other Colors could travel as part of their jobs - often working for Golds and Silvers - and not have to learn what armor could be trusted against a pulseFist. No matter how hard she and Trigg trained, they could easily be cut down by a razor on their first mission. 

Trigg never seemed to consider these things, and would entertain her musings with a smile. 

“It just isn’t fair - I want you to be able to do all that!” Holiday said between measured breaths on a run. 

”But what do you want for yourself?” 

Holiday didn’t even pause. “I want to be a soldier. I’ve dreamed about it since I was ten. I’m good at it. Or at least at all the things I’m supposed to be.” 

“Me too.” Trigg smiled as they ran. “But I also plan to enjoy all the extra perks too. Seeing new things, meeting new people. Drinking new wines.” Holiday rolled her eyes. He would make a great soldier, he was right. But was that because he was bred to be that way? She couldn’t get the thought out of her head. 

Communications from Shan were sparse. The training was brutal, as had been expected. She wrote about a new friend, and Holiday wondered if she was supposed to be jealous. She wasn’t. 

Holiday visited the ti Ankaras occasionally, knowing they were the key to getting into the 13th, and because she liked them well enough. She listened to their stories across the dinner table instead of through the walls, and they were even more dramatic: a daring jump to catch a perp trying to get out with stolen documents, a quick shot to stop a Sons spy from entering. 

“But I’m sure you see the Sons all the time out there at the silos,” Shan’s father said. ”Filthy rats can’t feed themselves.” 

“We don’t see a lot of anything,” Holiday admitted. “Except for wheat fields.” They laughed appropriately, but Holiday continued. “Especially not Sons - how many even are there?”

“Too many,” Shan’s mother said, shaking her head. “They want to end the Color system, but more than that, they want to watch the world burn. Terrorists. They say there are thousands even here.” She took another long sip of wine. 

Holiday almost snorted on her own dink. Thousands? In South Pacifica? There was no way. She could remember when the Sons were first found on Earth, it had only been a few years. They were a Martian creation. There was no way they had started operating and chose South Pacifica for their main target. The farms and government buildings her parents and the ti Ankaras guarded were barely even bureaucracy, much less actual hubs of Society. Either the Sons were idiots with more money than brains or - 

“They’re following the path of the rebels,” Shan’s father interjected. “There were rebels years ago. They opposed the Color system, but they weren’t terrorists like the Sons. We still rooted them out. You probably didn’t even know they existed, that’s how good of a job we did with that. Went into their homes, found so much shit. Violets building rockets. We even found a couple of Golds doing Jove knows what with some Green - anyway.” He coughed under his breath and Holiday became very, very curious as to what they were doing with the Greens. Instead, she blurted out her next thought - 

“You killed a Gold?”

“Oh, no, no, no. Killed the Greens on sight. I could see what they were doing. Killed the Violet on sight too. Killed the Oranges in the street when they ran out from their fucking art project. Gold commander cuffed the Golds. Assume they died later, probably much more painfully. Jackasses never saw it coming. Hell, I probably killed at least one of every Color on those raids. Ah, the good old days.” 

“That’s what you did in the Thirteenth?” Holiday asked.

“Part of it, yeah. Lots of good space battles, sure, but it’s always nice to help clean up your own hometown, too,” he said, with as much pride as he had with any of his glory days stories. Holiday tried not to blanch. That had happened here? Why would the Thirteenth, the most elite Gray Legion in the galaxy be sent to root out rebels in South Pacifica in their own homes? 

“So the Sons are recruiting the rebels now?” She asked tentatively, trying to connect the dots.

“No, no, no. The Rebels, they were trying to upend the Color system. Same as the Sons. But the Sons have guns. And we killed all the rebels.” 

“You think they’ll send the Thirteenth after them here?” Holiday asked. 

“Surely not. They’re probably more dangerous somewhere else?” Shan's mother said. Of course they are, Holiday thought. On Mars. Where they are actually fighting. Not in South Pacifica trying to steal documents detailing the tax percentages earned off of a grain shipment from ten years ago. 

The Sons were a terrorist organization, but there was rarely terror in South Pacifica. There were the ti Ankaras, and other guards, but no real military taking out “Sons.” Why would a terrorist warlord send someone from Mars to South Pacifica for petty thievery? If the Sons were here, surely they would have accomplished something by now. But then why did the ti Ankaras seem to see them as such a threat?

And what on Earth had the Green been doing with those Golds?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate chapter titles as much as whole story titles. Ugh. Anyway, thanks for sticking around. :)


	3. Chapter 3

The more Holiday thought, the less anything made sense. She knew there was a man, or a woman, or an Obsidian or something, named Ares on Mars. She knew that a lot of shit blew up on Mars. She knew from Shan that the Thirteenth hated the Sons, and she knew from Shan that they were fighting in a few places on Mars. Not South Pacifica. They were a ragtag group of loud, angry Martians. Then who was telling Earth that the Sons were here? And why make everyone so hateful? 

She talked it over with Trigg on their next run. She assumed he would sympathize with the Sons or the rebels, and she could get a new perspective. He was surprisingly uninterested, instead choosing to talk about Margo and Marcus, the twins who lived next door, and debate their relative attractiveness. 

Holiday rolled her eyes: she’d listened to Trigg’s pining over them for years now. 

“Do you think they have this same conversation about us?” Trigg asked. 

“No,” Holiday said flatly. She had too much to think about - the look in Shan’s father’s eyes when he talked about killing his own neighbors on sight had become more chilling each time it flashed through her mind. 

“You’re right,” Trigg laughed. “Because there’s no debate - I’m obviously the cute one!” 

She finally laughed at that. “But are you the fast one?” she taunted, and took off at a sprint. 

 

\----------

The days wore on, and when it was finally time to apply, Holiday was more than ready. At least, she was physically ready. She ended her shift and checked her scores. She had aced the fitness tests, and, as expected, placed high enough to be considered for an officer training program. In the Thirteenth. The Dracones. The Ash Lord’s own. She had made it to exactly where she wanted to be in life. The longer wait had made her question so many things - it would be wonderful to be back in a set routine, with orders and plans, someone else telling her what to do and how to think. This silo-watching and philosophizing was no life for a Gray with her potential. 

She knew Trigg was at home, and went to see where he had placed. They’d been neck-in-neck for most of it, but he was younger. Still, she stopped a friend of her parents’ on her walk home past a strip mall outside the Gray blocks, and asked them to buy him a nice bottle of wine — whatever Trigg’s results, they would be worth celebrating in his favorite way. The kindly middle-aged Gray did so without flinching, and Holiday was glad to have criminal parents for once. 

When she walked in the door, though, instead of jubilation, Trigg was in tears. His ever-smiling face was broken, each sob tearing it again.

”He wasn’t!” Trigg was shouting. Their mother was trying to console him, and upon seeing Holiday, pointedly announced her arrival. Holiday moved from where she was frozen in the doorway, setting the bottle down. Trigg continued - “He wasn’t, he wasn’t, he wasn’t.” 

“I said,” their mother raised her voice. “That your sister is here.” She sounded almost angry. 

“I don’t care!” Trigg shouted. “He wasn’t!” He stumbled from the living area to the bedroom they had shared their whole lives. 

“What happened?” Holiday asked. She had grown so close with her brother - she couldn’t imagine going to the regiment without him. But it sounded like the problem wasn’t related to the applications at all. 

“Marcus from next door was killed today.” 

“Oh no. What happened?” 

“He was identified as a Son of Ares - do you know what that means?” 

Holiday nodded. _He wasn’t, he wasn’t, he wasn’t._

“He and Trigg were on a shift together at the silos and he was arrested.” Her voice quieted. “He was shot by a Gold in front of Trigg.” 

“Oh no.” Holiday moved to stand, but her mother pulled her back down onto the couch. “Let him grieve. I don’t know that you were terribly in love with Marcus? Maybe Margo?” she asked hopefully, but Holiday just rolled her eyes. 

“Did he make it in to a regiment at least? Where did he place?” 

“He did. The Ash Lord’s own. Regiment basic training.” Her mother didn’t seem as happy to say it as she had when Holiday had heard her talk about it before. Surely it was just the feeling of hearing her son’s rasping voice through the wall. _He wasn’t, he wasn’t, he wasn’t._

“It’s going to be you next time. They’re calling all the criminals Sons now,” Holiday said without thinking. Her mothers eyes darted up. Holiday had danced around it long enough. She wasn’t as bitter as she had once been, but with her future secured, she felt like she could be more open. 

“Whatever you are doing in the basement,” Holiday clarified. “I can’t believe you haven’t been arrested.” 

Her mother let out a breath. “We can’t either,” she said almost mournfully, but stood up as if to stop further questions. ”I’m going to check on him.” 

Holiday rolled her her eyes and put the wine in their tiny fridge. 

\----------

“So they’re calling all criminals Son’s now?” Trigg asked, Marcus’ death seemingly getting him more interested in Holiday’s musings. 

“Yep. Just to demonize them more I guess. I mean, Ares is real. Shan has talked about him. He sent Margo a note. But he’s not enlisting Oranges to steal from the corner store.” She had been as shocked as anyone when Margo had tearfully and discreetly shown her the note Ares had left for her. 

_We are so sorry about your brother. You and I both know that he was not a Son. But if you want to turn around a society that kills its own for the hunger it causes them, let me know._ \- and then a rough sketch of the helm of Ares, and his signed name, with a series of numbers that must lead to a burner device, or maybe even to the police as some sort of trap. 

Margo had been frightened to have found out, to have held it all. Holiday had taken it out of her hands before she dropped it and they all got in trouble. 

“Then why are they doing it?” Trigg pressed.

”Why are they committing crimes? Desperation. They said Marcus was stealing from the silos, so maybe hunger. I don’t know.” 

“No, why are they demonizing the Sons here? This far away? If they’re all on Mars, wouldn’t it be better if we never heard of them at all?” 

Holiday nodded, though it was hard to read a nod while running. “I don’t know. I guess if we think a Gray stealing food for his family is a terrorist, we won’t think about why he’s so hungry on a planet full of food.” The realization shook her. 

_Killed on sight._

_He wasn’t, he wasn’t, he wasn’t._

“But there are real criminals too,” she added, realizing she sounded like a rebel herself. “There are assassins and Silvers who hire people to steal documents-“ But why? Why would someone take money for that? How desperate could you be? 

She played the last card she had, the only one that could shore up how there were real criminals in the world. 

“There are people who make crank in their basements.” For a moment, she saw Trigg’s face change as her mother’s had, and then he laughed his merry laugh instead. She should never have said anything out loud.

”You’re still avoiding the family business?” he asked, and laughed again. Did he know more about it than she did? Had he always? Too much to think about. She couldn’t wait until she was in the regiment, pushing herself far enough that she couldn’t talk, couldn’t think, couldn’t wonder. 

 

\----------

The time for deployment neared. They met regularly with the recruiter for early morning drills and body scans to ensure they wouldn’t have slacked off since the test. She had successfully avoided the ti Ankaras since they had told her the story of the rebels, but she knew they would want to send her and Trigg off - after all, they needed to know who they were sending with their stamp of approval. 

“We had hoped to see you when you got accepted, some kind of celebration,” Shan’s mother said. 

“No celebrating now,” Trigg laughed. “What a shame it would be to place as high as Holi here and then be rejected for a glass of wine.” He sighed deeply. “I miss wine.” They all laughed amiably. 

“So you were there when they arrested the ti Dintakra boy?” Shan’s father asked while passing out dessert plates. Trigg’s eyes flashed, but he held his temper. 

“They killed him.” Trigg said coldly, but neither ti Ankara parent seemed to notice his tone. 

“Such a shame. These Sons are everywhere. And for what? To try to turn around the society that supports them? It’s awful. Don’t bite the hand that feeds.” 

“It wasn’t feeding Marcus and Margo,” Trigg said under his breath. 

Holiday tried to change the subject, but the conversation faltered and Trigg, who could usually carry a social event blindfolded with his hands tied behind his back, was no help, just glowering. 

“Anyway, we are just so grateful for you,” Holiday said, kicking Trigg under the table. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled. 

“I’ve dreamed of being in the Dracones my whole life. I know Shan is loving it, and so, so - thank you.” They hugged her and Trigg, although not as tightly, and after she left, she felt like she could suddenly breathe more freely. When had the ti Ankaras’ house become more oppressive than her own? 

“You’ve always wanted to be in the Dracones?” Trigg asked. His usual smile was gone and his face was a storm cloud. “That’s bullshit if I’ve ever heard it.”

”What do you mean?” 

“Have you ever heard yourself talk? You hate the society as much as any Son.” Holiday didn’t respond. “We shouldn’t be talking like this.” 

“We aren’t.” Holiday thought about challenging him to a race home to take her mind off of things, but he was so content to be trudging, and she still felt the anger radiating from the comments about Marcus. He wasn’t, he wasn’t, he wasn’t. 

She sighed deeply. 

“Why are we killing each other? For what?”

”Society,” Trigg spat. 

Society. A society who killed its own for rebelling in the slightest. Who killed its own for their hunger, their poverty. 

A society whose strong arm was the Dracones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do all these notes add up? How does this work? Anyway, I'm going to aim for three a week. I'm at about 12 total, just working on tying up the last bit.


	4. Chapter 4

Holiday’s enrollment loomed. She was terrified. Like all Grays, she had been preparing to join a regiment since she was born. But she wasn’t ready any more. She should have gone a year ago, she thought. Before she was thinking so much. Before her dreams were soured by those thoughts, by Marcus’s death. 

She checked in with her recruiter. These meetings gave her hope, for as he drilled them in the basics - how to stand, proper regiment form for push ups - she didn’t have to think. 

“Holiday, stay back. The rest of you are dismissed.” Holiday panted, having worked extra hard. It hadn’t worked. _Killed the Violet on sight. Killed at least one of every Color._

“Do you want to lead the next drill?” he asked. Holiday just panted. She didn’t want to do anything but get the hell off of Earth and never have to think about any of this ever again. 

“Usually officer candidates lead drills for the others. You’ll all be grunts in the first part of the regiment, but you’ve been selected as something more, and we kind of expect that to show.” He said, his voice trailing off for her to respond, but Holiday just nodded. “You’ve got the brawn that all Grays need. You’ve got that in spades. But we also choose officer candidates based on knowledge and what’s up here.” He tapped his head and she wondered if he knew what was indeed "up there." Likely, he knew enough to kill someone - blunt force to the head, right where he was tapping. 

But did he know what was actually in there? No, only Yellows would. And he certainly didn’t know what was going on in her head as it screamed against him. She did not want to lead, she did not want her leaders or her squads to know what was going on in her head. She couldn’t. 

”Oh, yeah, sure,” is what she said instead, and then jogged off to join Trigg where he was waiting. 

“I could do that someday,” Trigg said. “Recruit, train. I’ve got a winning personality. I love judging people. And running.” 

She laughed. “You’d be good at it. Although recruiting on Earth doesn’t sound nearly exciting enough for you.” 

“Yeah. I’m sure Mars has plenty of backwater towns I could pick hayseeds out of. Turn them into killing machines,” he said, as they began the jog home. “Or whatever it is we’re going to be.” Holiday nodded. 

“I don’t know what I want to be any more.” The words came out before she could stop them. 

She had waited a year for what - for Shan to go first? For Trigg to get out? He would have done just fine without her, though she certainly hadn’t known then. For her parents? She claimed to want to get away, but she’d agreed to stay with them. And what had this year cost? They still tinkered in the basement and made back-alley deals, but she simply didn’t care as she once had. 

The siblings got back to their house and took turns showering before their parents came home. 

She had already packed up what little would go with her to regiment training, but pulled what she was looking for from a book beside her bed. The scrap of paper seemed more thin and war torn than she remembered. 

“Trigg?” she asked, holding the note to the light. Paper and ink. Nearly medieval. “How did you know whether or not Marcus was a Son?” 

He didn’t even look away from his datapad where he was playing a card game against himself. “Now you’re asking the right questions.” He laughed lightly. She sighed and thought about how talking to him was useless, but when she didn’t reply for a minute, he turned to her. 

“You need to tell Mom and Dad, you know.” 

“What?” she asked, now lost in her own thoughts, reading the note again and again. 

“I’m not dumb,” he said. It wasn’t an accusation, but the way he said it, and all she’d learned in the past year made her realize she used to think he was dumb. All that time she had hated her parents, hadn't noticed him. “Plus, they need to know if you’re not going into the Thirteenth. There would be…questions.” Holiday didn’t move, almost didn’t breathe. Trigg continued. 

“Just tell them,” he went on, knowingly gesturing at the note as Holiday tried to hide it. “You’ll be off the planet soon enough,” he stood up as they heard the front door opening, their parents returning from work. “Or, you’ll be dead.” 

She knew he was right, and took a deep breath to meet them in the other room. Trigg jumped up and followed eagerly. Their parents seemed surprised to see Holiday so troubled, and sat down with her. 

“I don’t know if I can join the Thirteenth.” Holiday said. She held the scrap of paper, the invitation in her hand. She would be trading the most elite position a Gray could dream of, for paper and ink. And probably death. 

“I think I’m going to join the Sons of Ares.” She breathed out, and then spoke impossibly quickly, trying to get as many words in as she could. “I’m only telling you because I might need you to cover for me or they might come looking for me or —“ 

“Babydoll, that’s -“ her father began. 

Her mother elbowed him. “It’s - Are you -“ her mother wasn’t any more put-together than her father. She looked at Trigg with the look she’d given him when Holiday had come home after Marcus had died. Trigg laughed. 

”What they’re trying to say is,” he mocked their father’s drawl perfectly. “Babydoll, _we are_ the Sons of Ares.”


	5. Chapter 5

They went to the basement, which she was right to assume was terribly illegal and unknown, fitted with jammers of all kinds. 

She learned that not only were they not drug dealers, they were scientists. The basement had been a product of the so-called rebellion. They had been developing new tech when it was all shut down. Now, they experimented with chemicals they stole from the plant her father worked at and provided them to Ares himself - home brewed stimshots and poisons. 

So far as they knew, they were the only Sons off Mars. They had met Ares when he had attempted to find a sympathetic farmer to support his dream of a rebel city. Instead, he found the ti Nakamuras, mad scientists with nowhere to test their wares. 

That was only three years ago. Trigg has been there as well. They had discussed his options, and Ares had suggested he simply go forward with his plans, and be a sleeper agent or an informant. 

“When you said the ti Ankaras would recommend you both, we knew that was the best opportunity we could hope for.” Her mother was at an ease Holiday hadn’t seen in years. “But we knew how close you were with Shan, and we couldn’t involve you. We didn’t want to put you in the middle of it.” 

“We didn’t want you to rat us out,” Trigg said more frankly. “Even five minutes ago, mom thought you were lying to get us to say something.”

Her mother blushed. “It’s true, but I’m so glad that’s not the case. I’m the one who delivered that note to Margo, actually. For Ares. But we’re safe here. Or we have been so far.” 

Holiday had so many questions, and they stayed up late into the night discussing them. Trigg grinned the whole time. 

She told them everything the ti Ankaras had ever said, about the Sons, the rebellion. She found out her parents had been the only survivors. 

Holiday was shocked as they named off dozens who were slaughtered just for trying things outside their color - Violets learning rocket science, Oranges learning medicine. Grays learning chemistry. It was fine, even a little pedestrian, for a Gold to meddle in these things, Holiday thought, but for a lowColor - killed on sight. 

“We were almost flattered when they sent the Thirteenth, showed that they saw us as a real threat. Until we started dying.” Her parents’ solemnity and sadness made more sense now, and she shuddered to think of what her parents had thought when she had befriended, of all the children on Earth, Shan ti Ankara. 

“I’m so glad you finally came around! I was afraid I’d have to kill you at some point!” Trigg said jovially. Holiday tried not to be surprised at that. Of course he would have, if she had stayed on the path she was on. But now, now what? 

“We will be in touch with Ares,” her father said. “Trigg can get a hold of him too, so stick together as best as you can. You’re sure, babydoll? You’re sure you’re all in?”

She nodded.


	6. Chapter 6

Five years passed. Holiday survived the grueling training for both regular recruits and then officer levels. Knowing she had another purpose other than to run and train had become more freeing than she had imagined it could be when she was on Earth, questioning her world and wanting nothing but to block out those thoughts. Now, they were all that ran through her head. _What could she pass along to Ares? What would he do next?_

Trigg worked his way up the regiment ranks using his charm and good looks to secure the favor of nearly everyone he met. He hardened though, Holiday could see it in his eyes - every time he met someone new, one of his favorite activities, his smile was a fraction less genuine, his handshake a hairsbreadth less enthusiastic. 

They were placed in the same platoon, and worked many missions together, none taking them back to Earth. Trigg kept a map he drew each journey onto, and it was quite shaded from trips as a guard and a soldier, and always as a spy. They kept in touch with their parents, mostly on Sons updates. There had been so much time lost while she suspected them, and while they were suspect of her, that she still wasn’t quite comfortable being close with them. Or at least not as comfortable as Trigg. 

It was likely seen as odd for him to be in such constant contact with their parents, but she felt closer simply from listening to Trigg talk to them, openly and lovingly. Grays who weren’t Trigg were reserved - maybe not as reserved as Holiday, because they likely had fewer secrets - but Trigg was an expert at emotion in a way that few Grays were, but all could get along with when he smiled and gave his Earthen accent just a bit of emphasis. 

Luck was often on their side through the years. Their requests to room together were granted. Their meetings with Ryanna, one of Ares’ lieutenants, were never questioned. They were terrified when they had been seen with her the first time, but Holiday had just received a slap on the back and a wink - an affair with a Red was apparently forgivable. In fact, Holiday’s superiors seemed especially pleased, as it made her reluctance to be sterilized a non-issue. 

Most of all, they were lucky they had lived. Nearly all the others from that recruitment class had died: a few in training, a few in the Ash Lord’s regular skirmishes, a few protecting from assassination attempts, and the rest in a particularly brutal Sons raid that the siblings had conveniently been locked in their room during. That had been a close one, and they had been sure they’d be found out. But they’d lived to fight - on both sides - for another day. 

They had only been truly found out once. Holiday closed that loop, and she became even more reserved afterward. When Shan had shown up on her doorstep, sobbing about how her brother Teller had been shot in the back and left for dead in his own barracks, Holiday had again held her tongue and offered support. It wasn’t Holiday’s fault that both ti Ankara siblings seemed especially interested in Holiday’s standard issue South Pacifica Gray looks - short, snub nose, freckles. 

She had held Shan on their couch, and the two had cried together this time: Shan for her lost brother, and Holiday in release of the fear she had felt when Teller had said it. When the boy, now a man, she’d spent years admiring realized she was a Son and she wasn’t going to stay with him. He had spat so many words at her, so many terrible words, threatening and vile. She knew he would have to die before she left the room. 

A turn, a grab, a shot, and then the perfectly chiseled killing machine that Holiday had spent a lifetime looking up to was a corpse on the floor in front of her. 

Killing him protected not only Holiday, but Trigg, her parents, Ares himself. It was an easy and instant decision, but Teller’s threats still featured in her nightmares. 

The next morning, Shan was out the door, as if nothing at all had been amiss. She was lucky the Thirteenth had given her even one day for bereavement. 

Holiday felt no guilt for what she had done. She had killed hundreds by that point, and he would have ratted them out. He would have torn them apart and it would have decimated the Sons. As informants, their lives only mattered as far as they could give information, but someone who knew her parents? That could cut off the Sons’ entire supply chain and ruin their future plans. Ares was always talking about how the Sons were all about planning - the long con - and for that they needed stims and things beyond stims, and things no one had ever heard of that Holiday could imagine only as new smells wafting up the stairs of her childhood home.

Their parents’ concoctions played an important role in the siblings’ success over the years, often allowing them to heal faster or sleep less, and Trigg and Holiday’s resilience became a usefulness that kept anyone from digging too deep. The siblings were good - the best of the Thirteenth. 

It was on a regularly scheduled, and deeply encrypted call, that they found out their father had died. 

“Margo has taken over procurement of materials since your father’s death,” their mother said. “Did you know Margo called Ares before she even showed you the note? She’s been working at the plant and -“ 

“How did he die?” Trigg interjected, hoping for a chemical accident or even a health problem they’d neglected to mention in past calls. 

“He was in a raid by a Gray squad.”

”Did they know he was a Son?” 

“They suspected, but I didn’t identify the target as your father. I told them he’d shot himself in the face the night before.”

”How did - what -?” 

It took several exasperated attempts to explain the situation, but what had happened was that Margo’s father, Dion, had received word that his unit would be raiding Margo and Holiday’s father’s workstation. She would likely die. If Dion refused to go or to shoot his daughter, he would be suspect and would likely die or be tortured. While he knew only that Margo was a Son, it was enough that he decided to kill himself rather than end up in either position. 

When Margo found him dead with a note before work the next day, she raced to work and was able to pull an alarm and cause some confusion for the raid. Holiday’s father was shot in the chaos, but Margo got away after removing his plant badge and setting his body on fire. 

She then dragged Dion’s body to the ti Nakamura’s where they dressed him and staged him to look as if he had done the deed there. When the police came for Holiday’s mother to inform her of her husband’s death at the plant, she showed them the evidence that her husband had clearly just shot himself. They apologized for her loss and retreated. Still having a pile of bones as ash, they raided Margo’s home for good measure, but found nothing. 

The story was confusing and convoluted and Holiday wished for the first time since leaving that she was back on Earth so she could sort out what had actually happened.

“Margo is a godsend to the Sons,” their mother concluded. “She’s holding us together here.” 

There was so much to sort through. Holiday filled in the unspoken, that neither she or Trigg was helping Earth hold it together. But then, there wasn’t a way for them to go back - they were two of the Sons’ most valuable informants. All it could do was remind them of the importance of the mission, propel them forward. 

”We knew this could happen,” their mother said. “We always knew. Since the rebellion was shut out, we have known any day we got to live, to be together, to love you two, was a blessing, a luck we should not be granted. We were happy, but we knew this would happen. We said our goodbyes and made our peace with it long ago. We couldn’t believe we’d made it as far as we did. I was lucky to have had him while I did.” 

And that was it - the extent of her mother’s grief. Surely she had cried, but not much. She had seen worse. 

Holiday imagined her mother finding out Margo was a Son, the younger woman knocking on their door with her own father’s corpse, knowing before their mother that their father was dead. She imagined Sott ti Dinkatra, Margo’s other father, looking on in bewilderment and wondered how much he knew. He was as emotionless as any Gray, but to have a son and a husband now dead? That would be a lot for anyone to bear. 

She thought of her own father. He had emotion, at least around her and Trigg. She wondered if he would be so resolute if it was their mother who had died. He would have. Their mother was right - they had both been harrowed by the rebellion and haunted by it every day since. He would have understood that he needed to continue, same as ever. 

And continue she did. She stopped making poisons for a while, and that was the only sign that anything had changed, her silent Gray way of questioning death. It helped that she had a new assignment - one that wouldn’t require her to cause death or be used to stop it or slow it. Instead Ares wanted to build something, something almost entirely from scratch, something new. Something Gold.


	7. Chapter 7

Three years passed again, more slowly now, as her father’s death had caused both Holiday and Trigg to step back from their frequent killing sprees with more questions than before. Holiday and Trigg were assigned to Aja’s team, the most elite of the most elite. It was guarding her, the Protean Knight, that Holiday had her closest brushes with death: a broken vertebrae once, another time a shot missed her eye by a millimeter. Thankfully, being on Aja’s team came with the most elite of the elite Yellows, and Holiday remained in fighting shape - no thanks to Aja’s shouting of “soldier down!” after each incident, as if Holiday would be left to rot, another casualty in her wake.

They spoke with Ryanna less often, and were introduced to other lieutenants and spies, many of whom would go missing or be long dead by their next attempted contact. Like all good sleeper agents, they waited. They waited, and they fought, and they complained about their boss, and they learned everything they could from their posts so close to the Sovereign herself. 

Ares was building a network they could only see their corner of from the inside. They could see other angles from the HC, as the Martian Sons wreaked havoc and just generally wrecked everything - bombs, gas, mines: you name it and they had used it to kill or maim a Gold or a Gray or anyone they seemed to deem a threat to their goal of an upended Society. 

At least Aja seemed fond of travelling, even if they were short trips - she wouldn’t stay away from Octavia for long, and Octavia wouldn’t stay away from Luna at all. Trigg’s poster map of the galaxy was dark now, nearly all shaded for having been everywhere, with some areas marked so many times the ink had worn the paper through. 

Paper and ink. Nearly medieval. It seemed like so long since she had held that note written from Ares to a grieving sister. 

The siblings spoke to Ares himself on occasion, comfortable enough in their roles that they knew what merited a direct call, though he still disguised his voice. 

“That’s great intel. Yeah, yeah, we can use that,” Trigg and Holiday heard him snapping at someone behind him, and then the sound of typing. “When? Oh, yeah, next week, got it - no, next week.” They wondered if whoever he was talking to could see his face. It was unlikely. 

”Hey, while I’ve got you wonder kids on the line, did your mom tell you what she’s cooked up?” 

“No, just that it’s something new and entirely theoretical - that one?” 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s going to be so squabbing expensive but - well, actually if this raid on - anyway - “ There was a popping noise that often punctuated their calls. “Anyway, it’s great. If it works, this kid is going to be a damn genius. It’s like - it’s like it teaches him while he sleeps. Or like, he absorbs - eh, shit if I know how it works. But I hope your mom does!” He laughed, and the siblings promised to pass on his compliments before he took to yelling across the room to someone and they politely hung up. 

It was always better to catch him in one of his strangely jubilant moods, where he spoke in mixed-up highColor and lowColor slang, giving them hints about plans they weren’t included in; instead of the times they called when a raid had failed and he was overly morose, saying almost nothing at all in response to their information.

Ares was unlike any commander Holiday had worked for in the 13th, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about him. He had too many feelings himself, that was for sure. Her Gray leaders were predictable as stone. She worked directly for the occasional Gold or Silver, but most, like Aja, were unemotional to the point of coldness with their Grays. Instead, Ares was like Trigg’s personality given power, without the restraint of being a Gray. While Holiday tried to reign in any errant emotion, Trigg gave in to them as often as he could, occasionally drawing an eye roll, or sometimes a backhand from Aja. 

She couldn’t be bothered to learn their names, and that was just as well. Trigg and Holiday both dreamed in secret of the day they could turn on their teams, on the Dracones altogether. These were the dreams that kept them saying “Yes, Domina,” all day - these dreams of killing everyone around them, and of course, the hope of saving those they’d left in South Pacifica, and the lowColors on every planet. But it was no matter that their growing bloodlust would help them achieve that. 

Still, even in public, Trigg’s emotions wandered, and occasionally he fell in love. Holiday hadn’t considered such a thing since Teller, but Trigg was unburdened by any unhappy past, and dated the locals wherever they landed. Instead he would meet Grays everywhere else - while Holiday had a hard time meeting anyone even in their platoon, Trigg would seek out non-legion Grays, convinced “the one” was out there somewhere. It wasn’t unusual for a soldier to marry and then have or receive their two children after retiring. Still, the thought had never occurred to Holiday. 

It occurred to others though. Shan said she had considered dropping out to start a family, but Holiday got the distinct impression that it was just to see how Holiday would react, so Holiday staunchly refused to be jealous. She wasn’t after all - she would have loved for Shan to drop out and get far enough away that there would never be a chance of Holiday having to kill her.


	8. Chapter 8

Holiday continued to move up in the ranks. She was often leading squads or entire platoons on missions. This allowed her to step back from the carnage herself, to bite her tongue against missions that might endanger Sons. She still had the notion that she didn’t want to lead, but with Ares giving orders, she could interpret it as him ordering her to lead. And she would follow him to the ends of the Earth for that - for keeping her head together when it seemed like everything else was going to shit. 

She asked her mother, who had become more contemplative, about it. There were other Gray leaders, so it had to be possible to become one. 

“Oh, Holiday. We are Grays. We will always need a Gold or a Silver breathing down our necks, giving us orders. Babydoll, we were bred to need direction.” Her voice never cracked. “Maybe one day, one day we won’t. One day, if this Reaper is all they say he is, if Ares can keep his head on straight, maybe one day, your children, Trigg’s children. Maybe one day they can. ” 

Holiday nodded, though her mother couldn’t see it. Her mother’s strength became Holiday’s own resolve. And the promise of the Reaper helped. Ares had sent them footage from the Institute, a boy with a slingBlade and the determination of all the Sons resting on his shoulders. On his scar. 

They’d sent two boys in. Only one came out. 

He had graduated at the top of the class, and the Sons were all holding their breath, hoping he would make it through the Academy, that his meteoric rise would continue to a place where he could topple the house of cards from the top down. 

Would he make a difference? If nothing else, he was proof that Colors working together could produce something more. He was a combination of carving, Red’s brute ability, and her mother’s tonics. He had been trained by Pinks and probably by Ares himself. If he failed, they could do it again. They had waited this long. But if he didn’t fail - if he managed to become something great and terrible, he could turn the tide. 

The Sons were active, they worked and sweated and died day in and day out to make the tiniest of dents in the Society, to be a tick on its back. But if he could be a Gold, could be in House Augustus, could graduate from the Academy, he could burn it down from the inside. 

“He didn’t do it.” Ares said. So it would be a morose day. 

“He got out, I’m sure he’ll be in high demand,” Trigg offered. He tried not to let on that just moments ago he had been giggling with excitement about seeing a shirtless Reaper get auctioned off as a freelancer. He had hoped to ask Ares for footage, but it sounded like that would not be well received. 

“He’ll be an embarrassment. He’ll - why did you call?”

“We were saying that we’re being re-stationed.” 

“Oh. Right.” 

“That’s all. Wanted to make sure you knew where we would be.” 

“OK. Aja still a bitch?” 

“Yeah, but we’re fine. The Reaper will be alright,” Holiday rambled, to convince herself as much as anyone, “He’s a genius. I’m sure he knows what he’s doing. And he’ll get picked up. Someone will bid and he will be back in action. A fire can start in any part of the house to burn the whole thing down.” She wasn’t great with metaphors, but she wanted to hear Ares as happy as he had been days ago, when they had called while he was watching the Reaper in a fight at the Academy. He’d given them a cheering play-by-play. Apparently, it had not ended well. 

“While I have you on a call. You were recommended by the ti Ankaras, right?”

“Yes,” Trigg offered. “Holiday knew their daughter -” 

“Shan.” 

“Yes.” Holiday wished he was in the happy mood, the one that would explain where he was going with this. But he was not. 

“OK.” A bubble popped and Ares hung up. 

“What was that about?” Trigg mused. Holiday was already lost in thought. What would Ares want with Shan? She almost shivered, remembering killing Teller again, as she often did, whether she wanted to or not. 

Trigg knew, of course, what she had done, he had been the one to return to the scene and clean it up for her while she sat alone and numb in their shared room, unsure if a rape report would divulge too much to the Yellows, and deciding to just pray to Jove she was not pregnant with Teller’s child.

Trigg felt no remorse for his part or on her behalf - he understood the mission was the mission and better Teller than Holiday. He didn’t know the second part, but he didn’t need to. It wasn’t as if he needed to avenge his sister’s honor, Teller was already dead by her own hand. 

She couldn’t explain what she felt. It wasn’t guilt for killing Teller. It was something more. A deep fear. He couldn’t come back. And thanks to Trigg’s “taking care of things,” another Gray had already been tried and imprisoned for the crime, so it wasn’t as if she would ever be suspected again. 

But there was something there. Something about comforting Shan while she feared for her own body, a body that could betray her at any moment if the vomiting wasn’t fear but morning sickness, a body she punished with sterilization the first chance she got after her next cycle. Those weeks of dread and doubt and grief haunted her still. She hadn’t figured out how to close that loop. 

 

\----------

When they got the orders to go to Earth, Holiday hesitated. But, it meant working for someone other than Aja, and so she jumped on the opportunity to lead the mission. Despite her achievements, going home reminded her of who she had been before she left, unsure of herself. It reminded her of who she was before that, and the regret she felt from the many years she’d spent hating her parents for something she would eventually be herself. 

As the ship descended, she and Trigg talked excitedly about the things they were excited for. It had been ten years since they had seen the original human homeland, the place every terraformed planet and moon imitated. Ten years since they had tasted cow’s milk without a bartender rolling their eyes, since they had looked at Luna as a mysterious moon in the night sky. Ten years since they had heard anyone say “Babydoll” un-ironically - and the siblings giggled as they practiced their drawls and tried to teach the likely forgotten Terran Gray slang to the others in their squad. 

Holiday spoke with the mission’s executive officer before they deplaned, so she could relay the orders to the squads. It was a middleman sort of position, and it was just enough leadership to keep her from being overwhelmed while still maintaining her sterling reputation. Still, it was a lesson in how much she didn’t want to lead, as weeks of planning the trip had proved to be vague and confusing. 

Her own boss for this mission had been angry about something and chose to stay back with the Golds. Prick. Of all the supervisors she’d worked for in ten years, he was easily the worst. But she reminded his resistance was why she was offered this position, and she could use it to leverage new positions for her and Trigg. 

Ares wouldn’t be pleased, but he had gone completely no-contact since the Reaper’s disappearance and then execution. They deserved a break from Aja, and if the Sons were dissolving, they needed a backup plan far away from the Sovereign, should they get caught. 

Holiday located the squads’ bunks and let them know the mission would start in the morning. They grumbled, having hoped they wouldn’t have to spend even a night on Earth. 

“Get over it and get moving,” she commanded the squads, and they did as she said. Once the team was settled into the bunks, she talked to Trigg. 

“It’s obviously Shan.” 

“You think she’s still mad at you because you don’t love her? That’s a little conceited,” Trigg laughed. 

“I don’t know. I just don’t understand the secrecy,” she said. “Actually, I think Shan is married now, so I don’t think my charm and good looks have anything to do with it, Babydoll.” 

Trigg laughed, and Holiday did too, but only for a moment. 

“It could be like the rebellion,” Holiday whispered. Trigg looked concerned, but kept his voice even - they were still in a crowded room. 

“Then it will have to be like the raid for Midian,” he referred to a mission where their guns had “misfired” just before they were sent out, and the siblings spent the time in the armory instead of on the field against the Sons. 

“Can’t. I’m a leader now, I have to be there.” 

Trigg nodded. “Well, we’ll see. I warned mom already so unless you’ve got a boyfriend here that I don’t know about -” Holiday scowled. She tried not to think about what their mother had done with the warning. She didn’t tell them, so in case they were asked they could honestly have no idea. But it stung to finally be back on Earth and not get to see her. 

“Then we’ll be fine.” Trigg smiled, though Holiday could tell he was thinking the same about their mother, and then they fell into regular squad gossip, and soon to sleep. 

The next morning, the squads were assembled as requested in front of the barracks. Holiday had begun hoping the orders would continue to be vague as she had considered the rebellion. Now the Sons were a growing, real threat. The Reaper had wreaked havoc from what she could tell. There could have been a real shot. She wondered for a moment what it would be like to be leading these squads on Ares’ orders, but then saw a missed call from Ruben on her datapad and shuddered instead. 

Well if he wanted her to talk to him, he should have come along, she thought, and returned to standing at attention. The mysterious Earth contact would outrank her, and she wanted to be as ready as possible, so there would be no excuse for this trip to be dragged out any longer. 

Finally, the truck pulled up, and a woman stepped out of the cab in full Thirteenth regalia. As she’d guessed, it was Shan.


	9. Chapter 9

Shan walked over slowly, talking to an entourage of several assistants. When she saw Holiday, her eyes lit up.

“Holi!” Holiday winced. She didn’t want her squad to see her like that. But Shan outranked her, so she just smiled politely. 

“Holi, you can break rank, sorry! I didn’t know it would be you! Much better to deal with than Ruben,” she said, leaning in conspiratorially. Holiday was happy to break formation if only so they could talk more quietly. 

“I’m so excited you’re here. This is going to be great! When I married an Earthen, and decided to stay I didn’t know if I’d ever see anyone else from the Thirteenth again. And then I found out I would, and now it’s you and - This is going to be great. What all has Ruben told you?” Shan began walking, and Holiday kept in step with the frenetic energy. 

“Not a lot, it, uh, seemed like a short trip, so he figured we would find out when we got here.” 

“Great! Well - oh, have you stopped to see your mom? She is just, so strong. So strong. But I think she moved, right?” Holiday gave a half nod. So far as Holiday knew, Shan had never met Holiday’s mother, but Holiday had mentioned her father’s death in some of their communications. 

It sounded like her mother had packed up and moved when she heard the Thirteenth was coming back. Holiday wondered where to, but tried to keep her mind from wandering while Shan kept talking about what had been happening on Earth since she had moved back a year ago and taken on a small team of the Thirteenth to remain stationed there. 

“So all I’ve got are these, what ten people?” They’d met back up with the entourage, and an assistant nodded to confirm. “Then when I need to actually get stuff done, they send me a squad. Very efficient and lets me work from South Pacifica, which is just, you know, I never thought I’d miss it, but when you want to start a family you think about your own family and - Anyway! It’s a standard raid structure and -” 

Holiday snapped to attention at the mention of what she and her teams would actually be doing. Her mother had been right to leave, it would be a raid of the whole area where she had grown up. As the assistant displayed the maps, Shan pointed cavalierly to the shop where Holiday had gotten the wine the day Marcus had died, then to the silos where Holiday herself had worked. 

“Your parents’ house,” Holiday pointed to the house she had walked to so many times. 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Shan said, as if confused that Holiday would ask, and not offering any additional information. Holiday racked her brain. Should she have asked after Shan’s parents? She had tried to keep in touch with them in the beginning, but it had been so many years. No matter, she needed to focus on why she had been sent here, and how she could do minimal damage. 

She wished Ares would answer if she called, if there would be time to find out if there were other Sons in the area before the mission truly began. 

“Great, great, I’ll let my squads know and we’ll be ready,” Holiday said once the plan had been fully laid out. 

“Oh can’t you stay? We need to have lunch! We need to catch up! Can you believe I’m married now?” 

“I mean, we should, maybe after all this. Right now my guys are still standing at attention waiting to find out if they’re fighting today.” Holiday tried not to sound too matter-of-fact, but it was hard not to - there was no way she would match Shan’s excitement.

“Oh, of course! Sorry, yes, lunch after the mission. And dinner! And my parents will be dying to see you if you can make the time. Although they’ll be shocked you aren’t a CO yet.” Holiday winced. “I mean, I know you waited a year, but I thought you’d make up the time…” Her voice trailed off, but Holiday didn’t answer. 

“One day maybe. Look at us! This is what we dreamed of when we were kids, Holi! Look at us.” Shan walked off in a reverie. She was right of course, they’d spent years imagining this moment, these positions, this power. 

They hadn’t imagined the crying on the couch or the double life, but Holiday could see from Shan’s point of view. This moment was a fulfillment in a way. And she was still honestly thankful, truly all the Sons were, that the ti Ankaras had gotten her to where she was. 

She relayed the orders to her troops, who were a little mad they had gotten ready for a mission that still wouldn’t happen for a while, and a little relieved that they had more time to play cards and watch the HC instead of working. 

She talked to Trigg, who interpreted a lot of Shan’s prattling as spiteful, though Holiday didn’t see it that way. The girl was flighty, but she probably wasn’t mean spirited, at least not on purpose. 

When the time came to prepare that night, Holiday tried to treat it like any other mission. The tactical gear was the same, the routine was the same she had gotten herself lost in so many times. The energy was different. This wasn’t some Gold bastard’s hideout, this was a Gray block in South Pacifica. The squad was jovial, more lighthearted than usual because it would be so easy: a few rounds into unprepared Grays, and then they could go back into orbit.

She knew what she would do. She simply wouldn’t find anyone. If she had to, she would point out the illegal basement in her own home, but her mother was gone, and there was no one else to point fingers, or weapons, at. The house was empty - Trigg had scouted it. 

They loaded up the trucks and began down the street. She looked at Trigg meaningfully, but he was lost in telling a joke to the squad, laughing as always, so good at understanding in black and white: the mission is the mission, if we die, we die. He already knew how to fight to save Sons and still remain above suspicion, so why not joke and laugh?

Ruben called her and she snapped to attention, feeling guilty for ignoring him. Technically, Shan was her CO on this mission, but he was still her boss. 

“Holiday! Where have you been? Nevermind, I know Earth is terrible, blah blah blah. Anyway, the CO there tells me the mission has begun. However, there’s another reason you’re there. The CO is taking up a shitton of legion resources. I mean, she’s great or whatever, but anyway, I’m going to send you an address, and you’re going to teach her a lesson. Two targets. Just act like it’s part of the raid, OK? Say you found them, they were Sons or something, blah blah blah.”

“I have to say all that?” 

“No, she’ll get the message. See you when you’re back in orbit. I would have been there, but really they just wanted you. I don’t know why I had to send a whole entire platoon,” his voice went up at the end as if he wanted someone else in the room with him to hear it. He hung up, and the address came through. She recognized it.

The ti Ankaras’ house.


	10. Chapter 10

Holiday blinked. Ti Ankara 181B 72 South 8

She thought for a moment, and realized she didn’t mind. She was grateful they had gotten her into the Thirtenth, yes, but she still sometimes, on especially bad missions remembered Shan’s father’s sneer. 

_Killed one of every Color. Killed on sight._

That was what had gotten her into the Sons. She could close this loop and still hold her head up. 

It was almost fitting that Shan’s father would be killed in one of the raids he was so proud of. Plus, it meant that someone would die, so she wouldn’t go home empty handed. 

The squads unloaded from the truck on the street she grew up on. The troops filed out. Lights began coming on in homes and Holiday took a deep breath. She had told the men there were only two or three rebels in the whole block, and hoped they would take it to heart. She hadn’t riled them up like Shan’s father had so many years ago, when he was ready to shoot anything that moved. She had told them to be careful, that a wrongful shot would get them discharged. 

Holiday hoped she didn’t seem too sympathetic, but if she did, she could claim she’d never said such a thing and have anyone who spoke against her dispatched by Trigg, whose simmering anger and hatred of his colleagues could be trusted for a swift and blameless end. 

Ultimately the blame wouldn’t matter, if the squads killed too many or wound up dead themselves. Ruben, nor Aja for that matter, wouldn’t care if every Gray in the block died so long as enough warm bodies came back to do it all again somewhere else, for hopefully higher stakes. 

Trigg was the last one out, and he gestured for Holiday to follow. She shook her head, and tapped for her com. 

“Ruben called,” she said. “I’m going somewhere else. A more strategic strike.” 

Trigg nodded and Holiday considered bringing him along. He had hated the ti Ankaras since day one, and would probably be quicker to kill than she could be. But no, this was her job. Plus, he needed to be the one to search their now-abandoned house and confirm it was empty and definitely had no secret basement. 

She walked the opposite direction as the shouting began. They were the Thirteenth. The Dracones. The Ash Lord’s own. There was no way they would be careful. A shot rang out. 

Ten steps down a street she knew like the back of her hand, a path she had walked so many times, a path away from the family she hated so wrongly for so long. 

Another shot, now in the distance. The squads were making quick work of whatever they were doing. 

She was on the doorstep, more worn than she remembered, but still memorable. 

Should she knock? Would it be kinder to kick the door down and shoot them in a sleeping daze? Or make a lot of noise so they would think they could escape and let them die some sort of hero’s death? She owed them that, some dignity, something for their hand in her life. Maybe she’d tell them she was a Son. She would love to see their faces then. They’d probably beg to be killed realizing they’d created what they hated most. 

She settled on knocking. She would thank them for everything, and then make quick kills. She wasn’t worried about being overcome in her tactical gear while they were asleep with their guns checked in at their workplaces. For a moment she wondered if Shan’s father had a black market gun, but she couldn’t let herself think that way. The quicker this was over, the quicker she could round up her squads and end the terror on her own street. 

Two knocks and the door opened slowly. “Shhhhh,” a woman said. But it wasn’t Shan’s mother. 

It was Margo.


	11. Chapter 11

“Where are Shan’s parents?” Holiday asked, her voice distorted only a little by the mask of the gear she wore. 

“What?” Margo asked. 

“Shan’s - the ti Ankaras?” Maybe Margo had already shot them. That would be helpful. But no, Margo was wearing a robe, this wasn’t - 

“Who are you?”

“Margo - where are they? What are you doing here? Where’s my - “ Holiday’s voice caught as she undid the clasps to show her face, but Margo was quicker. 

“This is my house and if you think you can just barge in here, then you had better have a reason because -” 

A cry interrupted them both. Margo gave Holiday a dirty look. The cry continued but the two women were frozen, Holiday’s mask in front of her face, Margo with an expression that would kill a pitviper on sight. 

The cry turned into a screech and Margo stalked off, leaving Holiday in the doorway. She removed her mask and looked around. Maybe Margo had killed the ti Ankaras long ago and taken their house. It was certainly nicer than the ones on the street where they had been neighbors. 

She wondered why Ares hadn’t said anything about Margo being here. Holiday hadn’t thought about her aside from being sure her mother would have passed along the message to any Sons in the area. Maybe Margo had brought Holiday’s mother here as a safe hiding place. Either way, she needed to call Ruben with two dead ti Ankaras within an hour or else her squads would find someone else. If they hadn’t already. 

Where had Margo gone? Holiday walked slowly into the familiar house, her uncovered face taking in the changes. It was different. How was it different? There were pictures on the walls, there were books on the floor - 

“Holiday?” Margo emerged from a hallway. She was in a robe. She looked exhausted. She had a baby on her hip. 

The child had stopped crying and hiccuped into Margo’s shoulder. Holiday hadn’t seen a baby in so long. She couldn’t even guess its age. It was so small, so helpless leaning into Margo. To its mother. 

“Holiday! You’re - you’re back? You’re here? Wait, what are you doing here?” Margo shhed into the baby’s ear and bounced it up and down. Holiday stared at her old neighbor, at the face Trigg and she had known, at the woman who had helped their mother, their father, Ares. 

The face with Shan in the pictures on the walls. 

Margo was Shan’s wife. 

“You’re - “ Holiday didn’t know how to start the sentence, much less finish it. She looked at the two people in front of her. Mother and child. 

Two ti Ankaras. 

“Shit.” Silence hung in the air around the soft cooing of a good mother to her tired baby. 

“I thought you were a Son.” Holiday asked, confused.

“I was.” 

“And now?” 

“Now I’m nothing. I’m neutral. I’m a mom to Rosalin while Shan runs the Thirteenth and I keep my mouth shut.” 

“But, you helped my mom for so long, I just thought…” 

“Thought what? That I’d stick around forever? That I’d put my life on hold for an organization that took my brother, both my fathers?” Holiday took a deep breath. 

“I didn’t know. And Dion - he - “

“He wouldn’t have done it if your dad wasn’t a Son raising suspicion at the plant.” Holiday nodded. It was true. Her parents, her brother, they’d been the ones being hunted when so many innocents were blamed. 

“And Sott?” Holiday asked after Shan’s other father. She hoped to calm Margo, but all that would do was buy time while she counted another shot, farther away this time. Then another, closer. 

“He tried to join up when I explained what I’d been doing. Got killed on his first mission.” 

Holiday shook her head. No, no, no, no. 

“But Shan?” Holiday had no words. There was nothing she could say that would change the facts. Margo’s life had been ruined, but for her to marry into the family that had… it didn’t make sense to Holiday. But love rarely did. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? I love her. You were her friend for so long, I would think you’d understand. She’s kind, she’s fun,” Margo’s voice hardened. “She doesn’t get anyone I love killed.” 

“She’s in the Thirteenth!” Holiday spat. Margo laughed and Rosalin began to whimper again. Holiday winced at the baby. She was here to do the exact killing Margo thought she had escaped. 

“So are you, Holiday ti Nakamura!” Margo laughed. “Maybe I’m still supporting the Sons by keeping Shan here where she can’t do as much damage. Although it sounds like a bunch of innocents on South Pacifica doesn’t stop you?” 

Gunshots punctuated her question. They were getting closer. Holiday needed to leave with bodies, and quick. 

“Margo. I’m so sorry for all that has happened to you, to your family. I’m glad you helped my mom for as long as you did.” Holiday was sincere. 

“I’ve never told Shan I was a Son, or about your family.” Margo offered, but the words were icy. She pulled a knife from a drawer near her free hand. Her time in the Sons had not gone to waste. 

“Thank you, Margo. Really. Thank you for everything. But, the Ash Lord’s got it out for Shan right now - “ Margo’s face darkened, and as if Rosalin could sense her mother’s feelings, she began to cry again. “Margo, if you could tell me where Shan’s parents are, then maybe - “ 

“Holiday, they’ve been dead for years. Ares got them with the last of your mom’s poisons as payback for my dads or some shit. Did Shan not tell you?” Holiday shook her head. Margo continued.

“The Rising took her parents, too. And her brother, though I don’t think she knows that,” Margo gave a look that said somehow, somehow Margo knew Teller wasn’t killed by his roommate. 

Holiday took a step back. Margo continued, not brandishing the knife, but not setting it down either. 

“How about you just leave?” Margo had backed Holiday up against the door. “Tell your CO he can go to hell, and tell Ares the same.” 

Holiday was frozen. She couldn’t kill Margo. She couldn’t kill a baby. Shan’s baby. Margo’s baby. She couldn’t take these lives, not for the Rising, not for the Ash Lord. Not for herself. 

She turned to run back into the night, but the door swung open. In the blink of a single eye, she saw so many things as they happened: 

Shan was at the door. Shan saw her. Shan had a gun. Holiday spun. Back to Margo, back to Shan, in an instant.


	12. Chapter 12

Holiday had been delivered back to her squad, who had completely exhausted the block by that time, in the strong arms of a triumphant Shan. 

Shan said she that had found Holiday in the street, bleeding out, and so she had brought her back to base, unconscious, _hoping beyond hope that her childhood friend and professional colleague would recover._ Trigg had nearly spat in her face, but kept up the facade of concern. 

When Holiday woke up, he was there. She kept quiet, but Trigg could see the shock in her eye. She recognized the Yellows. Not only because they had operated on her before, but because something in the corner of her eye _told her that she did._

She had a bionic eye. Surely if they’d spent this much tech on her, the Ash Lord wasn’t too mad. 

Trigg said he understood what had happened, what she had done, but Holiday still felt the distance as he counted the cost. Fifteen Grays from their hometown block were dead. Two were children. If she had killed Margo and Rosalin immediately, they could have been the only casualties. 

But she couldn’t. Trigg said he would have done the same thing. She knew he wasn’t just saying it as a trite comfort, though it felt that way when she sat outside Ruben’s door, waiting for her punishment. 

Despite the Gray bodies now buried on South Pacifica because of her, she hadn’t delivered on the mission. She had wasted time and money - the Ash Lord’s time and money. Shan was still on Earth. But so were Margo and Rosalin. 

The thought didn’t really make Holiday feel any better. 

As she’d suspected from the moment she woke up, she was demoted and transferred. She would be on probation, demoted lower than grunt work. 

It was a relief, really. Holiday, whether by breeding or not, was a consummate Gray down to her bones. She was ready to take orders again, to not be special, to have superiors above her and superiors above them making decisions and doing the dirty work. 

She didn’t get to be demoted though, until she told her squads the second part of the punishment. The part that made Trigg put his fist through a wall. They were all being punished for her failures. 

She was being transferred with her squad, who she felt deserved it in some way for the 15 innocent lives they took that night, back to Aja. It was far worse telling Ares. 

“My two best, best, slagging best, you are the best I had!” he raged in his strange distorted voice. “You’re going to be on gorydamn 24 hour watch you fucking idiots! Just what we need right now, more eyes on you.” 

Holiday realized now that Ares had three moods: the good one, the sad one, and this one which would probably lead him to the sad one for the rest of the week. 

“You’re going to be with fucking Aja! Aja!” Holiday was a little confused - they’d been with Aja before. But she knew what he meant, probation with Aja in the lead was more scrutiny than the Sons needed. “You’re going to be right under her fucking nose. They aren’t going to send you on missions. You’ll be a squabbing lapdog. Shit, shit, shit.”

Trigg looked like he was going to put his hand through a wall again. 

“I’m sorry?” Holiday offered. Ares had kind of pretended to care about Margo when Holiday explained it, but he seemed to think she could just decide her own future. They had talked about her quitting and taking on other missions undercover, but her position in the Thirteenth was too valuable, if tenuous. “I heard a rumor that we’re going to be going to Mars, sometimes, so that’s new and kind of under the radar. Maybe there will be some good information there.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well I hope you find some real interesting court fucktards to listen to because I’m not going to have any fucking missions for you. Maybe you’ll meet some nice locals and you can start your own slagging _families._ ” Holiday winced again. She wished she knew anything about Ares. The way he spit the word family - did he even have one?

“Just don’t fuck up probation. Sons don’t go to prison,” he was angry, but he wasn’t hanging up. “You know, they’ll just send someone else to kill Margo. Gorydamnit this is - oh. Your mom is fine, in case you were wondering. Can’t tell you where she is now, cause I can’t trust you as far as I can throw you, but she’s fine. Still shipping.” Click. And the call was over. 

“So what do we do now?” Holiday was still bewildered, still nervous. 

Trigg shrugged. “Same as always. Get to know the enemy. Call Ares in a month with some good intel and beg for forgiveness and a good mood?” Holiday nodded, but Trigg continued, “We can go to bars and meet strange men, and spend our evenings sucking on hookahs and not giving a care in the world for anything, you know, like everyone else in this squad does. It could be nice.” 

Holiday laughed and nodded. She had hated being in a leadership position in the Thirteenth, but had hoped that one day she would still be offered one in the Sons. It would take a lot to come back from this. Something big. Something that wasn't relaxing at bars and leaning into gruntwork. 

It could be nice, but she ached for it to be so much more.

**Author's Note:**

> Despite her late arrival, her short introduction is packed with clues I'm trying to unwind here. While the goal is, of course, to make it accurate to the story, it's also born out of my questions - What were the Sons doing after SOA but before Darrow was a thought in anyone's head? Why is Holiday so cool? What do any of the words they say mean? How can you write a backstory without using an infinite amount of OCs? (learned the answer to that one and it's that I can't.) Is there a way to work in "Babydoll" without rolling my eyes back into my skull?
> 
> It also took me forever to decide on the title. Still not in love with it, but you can't go wrong with lyrics, and bonus points if you get it, I guess.


End file.
